


define 'fake'

by openmouthwideeye



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 21:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9680645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/openmouthwideeye/pseuds/openmouthwideeye
Summary: The matter was settled. One stuffy family dinner, minus the awkward allusions to his romantic prospects thanks to his new girlfriend, the shy and stalwart Brienne of Tarth.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My second failed attempt at writing a Valentine's Day fic in exactly 500 words. Special thanks to the fake dating trope, for always getting to me no matter how many times I read it.

Brienne couldn’t lie to save her life. Jaime had known that when he’d coaxed her into this mad plan, but she was the only person he knew who wouldn’t make his eyes roll permanently back into his head by the end of the night. She had tagged along to enough Lannister family functions that his father would accept the ruse, so the matter was settled. One stuffy family dinner, minus the awkward allusions to his romantic prospects thanks to his new girlfriend, the shy and stalwart Brienne of Tarth.

So maybe he’d been a little handsy. It was more entertaining than he could’ve dreamed watching her stiffen and blush at every touch. But how was he supposed to know she’d spill her apéritif and a week’s worth of planning if he gave in and brushed a kiss along the freckles dusting her ear?

“Did you really expect us to believe you’re into _that?”_ Cersei cast a scornful look in Brienne’s direction. “You’ve been sweating bullets just trying to hold her hand without gagging.”

Tyrion snorted into his drink. Jaime shot him a hard look. His brother should know better than to poke holes in Brienne’s confidence.

Tyrion rolled his eyes, emerging from his wine glass to announce, “Once again, dear sister, you’ve missed the point spectacularly.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” she snapped.

Tyrion rolled his eyes, but his slow smile suggested he was assembling quips for a battle of wits.

Brienne slunk down in her seat, ignoring the heated argument brewing across the table. Her head was still tucked close to Jaime’s, for all that fuss about a little PDA, so she could speak without drawing attention.

“I didn’t mean to just blurt it out like that. But you . . .” Red crept up her ears. He wondered if her freckles would feel different now, kissed with a blush. “You surprised me,” she admitted, turning to face him.

He wanted to make a crack about trying method acting before their next performance, but his mouth was preoccupied with the warm puff of her breath. He swallowed and shrugged, shifting in his chair. The room felt too small all of a sudden.

“He hasn’t mentioned the Lannister legacy yet, so mission accomplished.”

Her lips twitched towards a smile.

His father leaned forward, clearing his throat almost imperceptibly. Cersei and Tyrion ceased bickering. Jaime straightened. Somehow Brienne’s fingers were tangled up in his when she slid higher in her chair, meeting his father’s stare.

“Of course you’re together,” Tywin said calmly. “You’ve been together for the better part of a year.”

His children goggled at him.

Brienne looked dumbstruck. “I’m sorry, what?”

His father gave her a hard look. “I’m not blind to the desires of my children, however foolish or irrational. You and my son have been cavorting together for several months, perhaps as many as eight.”

“This is such a _joke,"_  Cersei muttered, tipping back her glass.

Tyrion looked positively puckish watching the scene unfold, but Jaime had eyes only for Brienne, whose normally unflappable expression was quickly eroding into panic.

“Lord Lannister, I’m sorry for misleading you. But we’re not dating. Jaime and I, we— We’re just—”

Her eyes were wide and worried and so blue, framed by starburst lashes.

Jaime sighed. “Fake dating was a stupid idea.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Tyrion agreed.

“Fake?” his father repeated flatly. Dangerously.

_"Fake,”_ Cersei crowed, holding her glass aloft for a servant to refill.

_Fake,_  Jaime thought, gut churning.

Unbidden, his fingers moved to trace the shell of Brienne’s ear, featherlight. Her freckles heated under his fingertips, and her breath hitched, eyes searching his for some logical explanation.

He didn’t have one. He’d always been more of an action guy.

Threading his fingers through her hair, Jaime kissed her. Her lips were chapped and stiff, parted in surprise. It took remarkably little coaxing for her to soften beneath him, mouth moving in a jerky, tentative rhythm that tasted all the sweeter for the painful clash of teeth at her unexpected smile.

The sound of shattering glass forced them squarely back into reality. A reality made up of a fuming Cersei, a snickering Tyrion, and a severely displeased Lord Tywin Lannister.  

“Fake?” Jaime said, remarkably innocently considering where his hand rested on Brienne’s thigh. She slapped it away, and his smile widened. “Who said anything about fake?”

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is love <3.


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